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"She works in a funeral home�seems pretty creepy to me," Dawson remarked.
The front door opened and a man in his early thirties enters the studio. Dawson looked to the door then back to Sam.
"And speaking of creepy�it's back," Dawson snorted softly but loud enough for the man to hear.
The man removed his sunglasses and eyed Dawson with a cleverly raised brow. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
Dawson sneered at the man and walked from the front lobby. Sam quickly approached the man with a pleasant smile.
"Mr. Colbert," Sam announced cheerfully. "What can I do for you today?"
Max Colbert leans against the front counter and smiles pleasantly. "For starters, you could call me Max."
Sam smiled gently and leaned on the counter also. "I don't think my boss would appreciate that too much."
Max shrugged. "Your boss is an arrogant asshole," he replied then removed a business card from his pocket. "I'd like you to take some pictures around my house. I want to send some to my niece in New York."
Sam glanced at his business card then looked back at him with a gentle smile. "Mr. Dean was pretty upset that I took those photos of your dog last week. I don't think he'd be too happy if I took pictures of your house."
"I'm not bringing business to Dean's photography shop," Max informed her simply. "I'd like you to do this on the side. I'll pay you whatever you think the job is worth."
Sam fidgets and stares at him. "You're putting me in a rather awkward position," she informed him. "You know Mr. Dean doesn't like you."
"I don't care what Dean likes or doesn't like," Max replied. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life taking the same five photos of screaming kids? Come on, Sam, you're better than that. You should be free-lancing. Start your own business. This will never bring you success or appreciation for your talent."
"That's kind of you to say�Max," Sam said with some hesitation. "But free-lancing is a pretty unstable job. I still have to pay back the loans from my photography classes."
"If it doesn't work out, I'm sure you can find another job that pays what your cheap boss pays," Max announced. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Sam smiled and nodded gently. "You're right, Mr. Colbert-Max," she said in an attempt to stop the debate. "I'll give it some consideration."
"When do you think you can stop by for the shoot?" Max asked curiously.
"I don't have any real plans this weekend," Sam said with a slight frown then managed to smile. "I suppose early morning or later in the evening would work best for outdoor shots."
"Great," Max replied with a pleasant smile. "Why don't we make plans for Saturday around five o'clock, that way you can decide where you want to start." Sam nodded. "Will you have any trouble finding the house?"
Sam looked at his card and studied the address. She looked back at him and smiled. "This is just down the road from my friend, Amber's house. She lives near the cemetery."
Max's expression dropped slightly. "I heard there was some sort of trouble out there last night."
"Yes, there was," Sam replied. "Apparently two police officers were killed. Must have been chasing someone. Gives me the creeps."
"There's been some controversy surrounding that cemetery for the past few months," Max informed her. "Your friend better keep her doors locked at night." Max managed to smile pleasantly. "I'll see you tomorrow evening then." Max turned and walked for the door.
Amber entered the studio as Max was leaving. Max held the door open for her then proceeded out, returning his sunglasses to his face. Amber paused just inside and turned to watch Max leave. She turned and looked at Sam with a bright smile on her face.
"Oh, is he ever hot," Sam announced with an exaggerated gasp.
Dawson could be seen standing in the open doorway to the studio. He appeared annoyed while staring at the outer door. "He's an ass-hole," Dawson interjected simply and straightened.
Sam returned to the sign-in book and wrote something in it. She looked at Amber with a tiny smile. "He has to be ten years old than you," Sam informed her friend.
"So," Amber announced with a devious smile. "Maybe I like my men older and more experienced. Who is he?"
"Actually, he's your neighbor," Sam informed her.
"He's some rich, eccentric jerk," Dawson remarked lowly. "He comes in her at least twice a week and makes eyes at Sam. What's the creep luring you in with this time?"
Sam groans and places the card in her pocket. "He's not a creep, and he's not luring me into doing anything. He's paying me to take some photos of his house for his niece."
"Sure," Dawson snapped and moved next to her. "He just wants to get you into his bedroom. Trust me, I know his type."
Sam walked away from Dawson and approached the front door. Amber hurried after her. Sam turned to face Dawson from across the room. "He's not interested in me, Dawson. He was interested in my portfolio. Give the guy a break, huh? I'm going to lunch. I'll be back in an hour."
Sam and Amber leave the studio. Amber trots along side Sam with a childish grin upon her face. "Tell me all about him," Amber announced happily. "Is he really rich?" Amber suddenly gasps with excitement. "I wonder if he owns that big, expensive looking home�the one that looks like a mini-castle. Oh, you have to introduce me. Can I come along to his house? Please!"
"My goodness, Amber," Sam interjected. "You're worse than a school girl."
"He's dead handsome," Amber responded with enthusiasm.
"I think there should be some sort of law against mortician's using that term," Sam muttered lowly. "If he doesn't mind that I bring you along-- I'll have to ask him if it's okay."
"It should be," Amber remarked then raised a devious brow. "Unless he is planning something romantic."
"You're just as bad as Dawson," Sam snapped. "I'd think I'd know if he was flirting with me, and he definitely wasn't flirting with me."
"And if he was?" Amber asked curiously with a lusty smile.
"If he was, I'd have to tell him he's too old for me," Sam informed her simply. She then laughed softly. "Besides that, could you imagine me with the rich, pompous type?"
"No," Amber replied with a warm smile. "You're more of the local, country boy type." Amber then grabbed onto Sam's arm. "Speaking of which, you're still coming over tonight, right? My brother is cooking his world famous stew."
Sam laughed softly and nodded. "Yes, I'll be over around six or so."
Sam stood on the porch to Amber's house. She knocked on the door then looked toward the cemetery just beyond their front yard. The police line still remained around the crypt. Sam shifted uncomfortably and looked back to the door. The door opened to reveal Baxter, Amber's brother. He was a fairly handsome man in his late twenties. He stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on his face.
"Can I help you?" Baxter said simply.
Sam smiled and tilted her head with a humored look. "You invited me, remember?"
Baxter continued with the game. "Hmm, sorry. Don't know what you're talking about."
Sam pushed Baxter aside and entered the house. Baxter laughed and shut the door behind her.
"You're such a pushy person, Sam," Baxter announced with a sly smile on his face as he followed her down the hallway. "I love forceful women."
